


Day Twenty Two: Online Relationship

by Invictusimpala



Series: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge, Awkward Conversations, Chatting & Messaging, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Online Relationship, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is in a 'relationship' with a guy he doesn't know from online. They decide to meet up, but it doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Twenty Two: Online Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Day twenty two! Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

Sam is in this ‘online relationship’. He’s been cautious the entire time, not telling the guy where he is and making sure to keep his personal information private.

The guy he’s in a relationship with doesn't ever give his name, and Sam doesn't give his either, no pictures, nothing.

But it’s nice.

Really nice.

He’s so kind and gentle with Sam, telling him all the right things and asking him about his day. It’s always simple things like that. They keep up with each other and it’s not weird or annoying like Sam thought it would be.

For the third time in his live he feels good and truly in love.

Jess was the second, and she’ll always be lingering in the back of his mind. He still loves her, he always will, but he’s learning to move on. Dean is a different story, but this guy . . . this guy could be it for him.

Sam logs online and puts himself to ‘available’.

He’s not on though, so he logs right back off.

Dean’s in the shower -- they just had a hunt, and there’s mud under Sam’s fingernails that he’s dying to clean out.

Dean tosses him a towel and takes the laptop from Sam when he comes out.

Dean researches their next hunt while Sam cleans up.

“Hey, Sammy? I’m going to go out for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

“Do I need to get another motel room?” Sam shouts back over the spray of water.

“Nah, I’m coming back alone.”

Lately Dean’s been pretty good about alcohol and quickies in bathrooms. Sam’s not judging him or anything, just surprised that now he doesn't have to worry about walking in on something he doesn't want to see.

His phone dings with a message.

Sam dries off quickly, and then opens his email.

A message is there from the guy who he is calling ‘IM Guy’.

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Hey, do you want to meet up?_

Sam chokes on air, staring down at his phone.

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _And you’re sure you’re not a murderer?_

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Last time I checked, yeah._

Sam chuckles.

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _I’d like to meet up sometime soon. Where are you from?_

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _I’m in Illinois right now, but I can meet you anywhere in the country, you name it._

Butterflies fill Sam’s stomach.

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _Coincidentally, I am in Illinois as well. Name the place and time, I’ll be there._

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Richardson Bar, nine o’clock. Is tomorrow too soon? I’ll be at the bar. I’m sort of tall, sort of blond._

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _I am extremely tall, long hair. I’ll see you then._

Sam puts down his phone and sighs happily.

He’s going to meet his crush. Well, either that or he’s going to be killed.

Dean comes back an hour later happier than usual.

“Dude, how much have you had to drink?”

“None.” Dean grins at him, ruffling his hair as he walks by, and Sam makes an indignant noise.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“Nothing, Sammy. Big boy stuff.” Sam rolls his eyes.

Sam can’t sleep. He lies awake in bed thinking about who he’s going to meet.

Blond. Tall. His type.

He goes to sleep dreaming of him and wakes a little uncomfortable below deck.

Dean’s still asleep, breathing even, and Sam sneaks past his bed to the bathroom to take care of himself.

He gets ready for his date of sorts, making sure he smells nice, looks good, and he practices general phrases in the mirror over and over to ensure he doesn't look like an idiot when he says them.

“Hey, I’m Sam, what’s your name? No, that’s dumb.”

“Yo, Sammy, gotta take a leak, get outta there.”

Sam gets out of the bathroom, and out of the motel room altogether. 

He mills around town, looking at different shops, picking out a nice jacket for tonight.

The bar is _right there_ and Sam debates going in early. It’s almost eight, and he could use some courage given to him via vodka shots, but he decides against it when three blond, tall guys walk in and he can’t decide which one is cuter.

Or how he’s going to find out which one is IM Guy.

When nine o’clock rolls around he goes in. It’s dark, dimly lit by hanging lights, and there are not many people there considering it’s a Tuesday night. 

He goes and sits at the bar, ordering two beers. He puts one next to him, but no one shows. He drinks them both and two others.

A funny feeling settles in his gut, replacing his previous excitement.

He goes home after another hour of waiting. His phone stays silent the whole night, and so does his laptop.

The only reason he sleeps is because he’s so tired, and so disappointed. 

Dean doesn't come home until late in the morning, and he’s totally hammered. He smells horrible. Sam shoves the pillow over his head and succumbs to the darkness once more.

He wakes up screaming from a nightmare.

“Sam? Sam, are you okay?” Dean asks, standing beside him, hands hovering like he isn't sure what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Just leave me alone.” Sam breathes, and curls back up in bed. He’s got a horrible headache, and he feels sick, heartbroken. Dean sighs and retreats to the bathroom.

There are painkillers being shoved in his face and a bottle of water when he wakes again. Dean looks tired, bags under his eyes. Sam accepts them and drinks down the bottle.

Dean leaves. His phone dings.

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Sammy, it’s me._

Sam narrows his eyes.

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _Who the hell is this and what kind of sick joke are you playing?_

He taps it out on his phone angrily and throws it down next to him, throwing an elbow over his face to keep the sunshine from shining in his eyes.

His phone beeps several times in a row.

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Sam, last night I went to the bar, and it turned out to be you I was talking to. I swear to god this isn't a prank and I didn't know until last night. Sam it’s Dean. Whatever you do, please don’t hate me._

Sam stops breathing. He’s pretty sure his heart stops. There’s this feeling akin to something like dread that makes his hands shake as he types his reply.

To: IM Guy  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _I’m not mad at you. I just need some space. I’ll get another room for the night._

To: Sam Winchester  
From: Dean Winchester  
 _Please, Sam, just hear me out._

To: Dean Winchester  
From: Sam Winchester  
 _Just give me the night, Dean, and then we can talk. I could never hate you, I just need to think this through._

To: Sam Winchester  
From: IM Guy  
 _Okay, Sammy, I love you._

Sam doesn't reply.

He gathers all of his things before Dean can come back to the motel. He gets another room even though the guy at the counter gives him a weird look.

Sam sits in the room after locking the door. 

He doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry. He’s loved Dean as more than a brother for years, but that’s not the point. This is now.

This is real and not some dream.

He hears Dean return, the roar of the impala like no other car he’s ever heard, and the door closes with a soft click, not a slam like he was expecting.

He leaves the room and knocks on Dean’s.

When the door opens, Dean is hugging Sam instantly, and he hugs back after a few seconds of hesitation.

“I thought I lost you.” Dean whispers. “I can’t lose you, Sammy.”

Sam takes a deep breath and pulls back only to bring Dean close again, this time joining their lips.

Dean makes a surprised sound, but then he’s kissing back with a passion he didn't know Dean was capable of holding inside himself.

It’s not rough or rushed, it’s slow and it’s only when Sam hears a whistle behind him does he remember to kick the door closed behind them.

Despite kissing like that for the next five minutes, things don’t speed up more than that. Dean pulls at Sam’s clothes, and they start to shed them between breaths.

“Are we doing this?” Dean whispers against his neck, and Sam pauses.

“Not right now. Let’s talk about it and then get some sleep. We can see where we are in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Did you really not know it was me? Be honest, Dean, I don’t think I could stand you lying to me.”

“No, I swear I didn't, I told you that. You were sitting at that bar, and it all added up. I walked in and thought, ‘holy shit, that’s my brother sitting right there’, and I backed out. I couldn't do that to you.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I said, I love you. I always have. I just thought the feelings weren't reciprocated.”

Dean looks at him for a moment, and then kisses his forehead.

“I love you, too, you big baby. Let’s get some sleep.”

Sam fits himself in Dean’s bed, and sleeps better than he has in years.

Sam wakes up to something wet being pressed against his neck over and over again.

Dean hums when he opens his eyes, and he can tell he’s all marked up. Dean nibbles on his earlobe, and Sam laughs quietly, pulling away. He turns so he’s facing Dean, nosing at his neck.

Dean’s cock is warm, hard against Sam’s bare thigh. Sam shimmies out of his boxers, and helps Dean out of his briefs before licking his hand. 

Dean’s looking at him like he wants to eat Sam alive.

Sam takes both of them in his palm, and Dean’s breath is knocked out of him. He struggles to pull Sam as close as they can get before it gets uncomfortable.

Dean whines, and Sam steals the sound from his mouth, kissing Dean slow and steady.

He moves his hands a bit faster, gripping a little tighter, twisting on the upstroke.

He teases pre-come from Dean’s slit by thumbing over it a few times in quick succession.

Dean breaks away from Sam, breathing hard, eyes clamped closed.

His muscles aren't tense, which means Sam’s doing a good job, he thinks.

Dean chokes on a whimper of Sam’s name as his grip becomes slicker.

His orgasm is slow and heated, and Dean tosses his head back against the pillow as his body buzzes, head fuzzy.

Sam watches him, and that’s what sends him over the edge.

He keens and grunts as his come paints up Dean’s torso, but he’s too blissed out to care at this point.

Sam slumps against Dean, not caring about how gross they are. This is his brother, he doesn't have to worry about awkwardness.

“Was that okay?” Sam asks, running his hand that isn't covered in come through Dean’s hair.

“S’good, Sammy.” He slurs, and they meet halfway, arms wrapping around bodies, and Sam’s feet fit between Dean’s.

“Are we going to be okay after you wake up, Dean? Are you gonna leave?” Sam asks, and Dean shakes his head.

“No way I could leave you, dude. Not after all this. I kinda like your big hands.” Sam rolls his eyes. 

So much for pillow talk.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://invictus-impala.tumblr.com/post/99871679299/about-prompts-im-now-taking-prompts-yay-if-you))


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